Last Shot
by Sprite91360
Summary: When a job doesn't go quite the way it was planned.   Mostly Eliot and Nate.


Last Shot

Leverage PG

A job doesn't go quite according to plan. Set in Season 3 or 4ish.

By: Sprite

All mistakes are my own, because while Cat has tried to fix my mistakes, I can't help but keep fiddling.

All my gratitude goes to her. And a grand thank you to all how have commented and favorite-d me. It has been very encouraging.

Eliot ran a hand through his hair, frustrated. "Nate."

Nate waved him off and kept talking. "Sophie, do you have Jefferson?"

"I've got him." She hit the button on the microwave.

"Parker, I'll need you to clear out the safe _before_ Sophie can make her move."

"Right."

"Nate." Eliot tried again.

"Eliot, I know I have you spread a little thin, but I'll need you to get Parker through the compound and back up here to us. Do you think you can do that?"

"I can do it, but Nate…"

"Okay, let's go steal us a water park."

"Nate!"

Sophie's microwave beeped and the smell of popcorn filled the air, but all eyes were on Eliot.

"Nate, I can get Parker out, and I can get her here." Eliot tapped the computer screen accidently making it triple in size. "I can get to Sophie, but I can't cover both of them and you. You'll be out of position and I can't cover you."

Nate shrugged. "I can look out for myself, Eliot, you look out for the girls."

"Nate," Eliot started again, "the guy is crazy."

"Eliot, he's a thug. I can handle a thug." Nate tone was sharp, and the way he tipped his chin up, the conversation was over.

Things were going mostly to plan but a six car pile-up on the interstate put them ten minutes behind.

"Stall, Sophie."

"I'm trying." Her voice sang over the ear buds.

"I'm sorry?" Jefferson said.

"I'm trying," she said smoothly, "to decide just how big we should make that new slide." She tapped his arm with her hand bag, gave him a smooth smile and turned to the window. "Do you think we should go higher or faster?"

The conversation continued for a few minutes as Parker worked the lock on the safe. She gave a little shout of glee and grabbed the packet. "Got 'em."

"Good job, Parker, now get out of there."

"Oh crap!" Hardison put down his soda and tapped a set of keys on his computer.

"Hardison?"

"There must have been a pressure sensitive pad in the safe. We got alarms going off all over the place."

"Parker, get out of there, now."

Hardison waited for a "dammit Hardison" from Eliot, but it never came.

"How did we miss it?" Nate faked taking a sip of his coffee to cover him talking to himself. He was three floors down from Sophie near the snack bar and half a mile away from Eliot and Parker.

"I don't know. It's not on the blue prints." The clack of keys was drowned out by the sound of a door slamming.

"Parker, get behind me!"

Parker didn't say anything but the unmistakable sound of flesh on flesh could be heard over the earbuds.

"I got an order form." Hardison mentioned. "It was just installed in the last month. And it wasn't wired in. It works off a battery. That's why we didn't know it was there. " Hardison kept tapping, muttering to himself. "This is very clever. Where did you get this?"

"Parker, let's go."

"No, wait. This way is faster." She took off running, Eliot right behind her.

"Parker, it's only faster on paper." Eliot did a running slide to taking out the guard that came at them from a side tunnel. But they were committed and kept going. "Nate, we're blown."

"Sophie, can you get out of there?" Nate again muttered into his coffee.

Just then Jefferson's cell phone bleeped. As he looked down, Sophie headed over to another window, closer to the door. "Wait right there." He pointed at Sophie and he looked back at him wide-eyed innocent face and stayed in character, waiting for Eliot.

They were five long minutes as Parker and Eliot ran through underground tunnels from one end of the park to the other. Humidity was high as they passed under the rides, the sounds of laughing and shouts of glee from above doing nothing to drown out Parker and Eliot's exertions.

Eliot slammed through the doorway at the bottom of the stairs, squashing the security guard standing on the other side between the door and the wall.

"Nate, are you moving?" Eliot headed up the stairs, not risking taking them two at a time. "Parker, head for the van."

Parker didn't argue, she had a clear exit and she didn't want to slow Eliot down. Especially since Jefferson had just slapped Sophie.

"Nate?" Eliot gasped out as he headed up the stairs.

"I'm moving."

"Tell me you aren't moving _up_."

There was a long pause.

"Nate!"

Nate had every intention of going to Sophie's rescue, but the three men with the distinctive haircuts were coming at him and had him blocked from every exit. Shy of yelling fire, he was boxed in.

"I'm not headed for Sophie." Nate said slowly, his agile mind looking for any opening.

Eliot saved his breath for the last flight of stairs. He didn't bash through the door this time. He waited, his hand on the knob, while he got his pounding heart and breath to slow. Adrenaline brought his hearing up, his attention focused. He waited a moment then eased the door open.

"Hardison. I'm in the east stairwell; give me a trajectory?"

Parker's voice came over the line at the same time as the metal clang of the van door opening. "Eliot, turn right from the stairwell. Fourth door down on the left hand side."

Eliot grunted and took out a guard with a quick left jab to the solar plexus and eased up to the door.

"Come with us, sir." One of the guards motioned for Nate to head for the elevator. Nate rose slowly and finished his coffee. They didn't want to make a fuss, not here, among the crowds at the park. It was killing him that he hadn't listened to Eliot. Eliot had said they spotted him, and he hadn't believed it.

Eliot entered the room Sophie was being held. He stood still. Jefferson turned, a gun in his hand. Eliot looked to Sophie. Her face was tear stained, but beside the red mark on her cheek she was mostly unhurt.

"Sophie." Eliot didn't look at her again, his eyes trained on the man holding the gun.

Sophie kept her back to the wall, moving slowly toward Eliot.

"You will never get away with this." Jefferson's eyes flicked over toward Sophie, but the gun never wavered off Eliot.

"I'm afraid we already have, Mr. Jefferson." Sophie said smoothly. "I'm afraid your house of cards…" She paused for dramatic effect, but Eliot stepped on her line.

"Is all wet." Eliot said as he stepped forward, grabbed a replica of a waterslide and hurled it across the short distance between himself and Jefferson. The gun went off but the throw had pushed the gun away from Sophie and blew the shot blew out a window. Eliot was across the room before the man had a chance to bring his arm around.

The fight was short and sweet. Jefferson was too many years behind the desk and he went down fast and hard.

Sophie dashed for the open doorway and hit the down elevator button. Eliot met her at the elevator banks.

"Nate. Call an audible."

"So what's the plan, hmm? Pitch me off the roof? Or elevator to the basement?"

Eliot signaled Sophie away from the doors, but as they opened the car was empty. "Get in." Sophie entered the car.

"Hardison, can you control this car?"

"Car number?"

Sophie read the number off the button bank and watched as the doors began to slowly close.

"Head right for the van," Eliot ordered and she nodded, eyes wide.

"I will." The door slid shut with a ping.

"Nate?"

"Ah, so down to the basement it is."

Eliot stared at the numbers on the elevator. "Hardison, bring him to me." The security guard was hitting the basement button, but the car went up anyway.

Nate kept talking, hoping against hope, to keep the men off guard. Sophie mentioned she'd made it to the lobby. Eliot shifted off to the left, his weight on his rear leg, his body centered.

The doors opened and in that moment Eliot launched himself into the elevator. The car was tight and Nate went down to one knee as fast as he could to get out of Eliot's way. Fists hit, kicks landed, at one point, Eliot even grabbed Nate and shoved him into one of the guards knocking them both to the floor.

"Get out of the way!" Eliot grabbed Nate by the shirt and tossed him and Nate stumbled over the body on the ground, his shoulder crashing against the door that kept trying to close.

Nate turned to watch the end of the fight. Eliot was down on the floor, the guard over him, a boot raised, and Nate thought for sure that Eliot was done for, but Eliot grabbed the boot and twisted and with a crack the leg snapped and with a scream, the man went down.

Eliot got to his feet and staggered out, shoving the body on the ground into the elevator. The doors slid shut.

"Hardison, lock this car down." Nate looked over at Eliot barely noticed there was someone behind him.

"Eliot!"

"Nate?" Hardison queried across the earbud.

Out of position to reach the gunman, Eliot launched himself at Nate. The gun went off with a flash and a bang and Nate hit the ground with a jar to his shoulder that made his teeth hurt. Eliot was back on his feet and moving before Nate felt the burn in his side.

He pulled open his shirt. He could only look at the wound for a second, the blood and the pain making his stomach roll, but it wasn't bad. The bullet had burned into his side. Messy, but not as bad as last time. He pulled out his shirt tails and pressed it to the wound with a grimace. When he looked up, Eliot was walking toward him, the man with the gun, now without the gun, crumpled in a heap in the corner of the room. Eliot tossed the gun one way, the clip another.

"Can you get up?"

"Yeah." Nate held out a hand and Eliot hauled him to his feet.

Hardison sent the elevator car back up and Eliot and Nate limped toward it.

"Nate, are you okay?" Sophie leaned forward between the front seats of the van as if looking out the windshield would provide answers.

"It'll be okay, Soph." Nate pressed his hand a little harder in to the wound, a trickle of blood spilling out between his fingers.

The elevator didn't make any stops and opened on the ground floor. Eliot got out first, his fingers tangled in the fabric at the shoulder of Nate's shirt. "Come on."

They were half way across the foyer before they saw the van pull up to the curb. The rear door slid open and Parker was out, waiting for them.

Nate stumbled and he almost brought Eliot down with him.

"Can you make it?" Eliot tugged Nate's arm across his shoulder, gave a weak smile to a passerby and raised his voice just a bit. "I swear, dude, next time you get drunk I'm not driving your ass home."

Nate played along. "I know man, I know, I love you, dude." He slapped his free hand against Eliot's chest, then wished he hadn't when it left a streak of blood.

People looked away. Nobody liked a sloppy drunk.

They scrambled into the back of the van, Nate stretching out along the walkway of the van, Eliot lying on the floor with his back against van wall behind the driver's seat, his feet against the slider.

Parker slammed the passenger door shut and seconds later Hardison was pulling away from the curb.

Sophie grimaced but helped Nate pull up his shirt. She grabbed a clean cloth that Hardison used on his computer screens and pressed it over the wound. "It's not too bad, but there's no exit wound."

"Hardison," Eliot took a deep breath and closed his eyes. "Hospital."

"No, it's okay, Eliot." Nate said. "It's not that bad. Hardison, back to the hotel. We'll lay low for a day, Eliot you can doctor me up good enough to get back to Boston. I know a guy."

Hardison shifted to the left lane.

"Hardison. Hospital." Eliot said again.

"Eliot," Nate tipped his head up, but he couldn't see Eliot from this angle. "It's not that bad. I don't need a hospital."

Eliot clenched a fist and banged it against the floor. "I do."

Sophie looked up, startled.

"Eliot?" Parker shifted in the front seat and reached out a hand, touching the only thing she could reach, his upraised knee.

Sophie grabbed a couple more towels and scrambled ungracefully over Nate to get to Eliot.

"Nate?" Hardison spared a glance away from the road to look in the back.

"Hospital." Nate tried to keep his worry at bay until he had more facts.

Sophie tried to look at the wound, but Eliot only glared at her and took a towel from her hands. He pushed the first into his side, his jaw clenching as he pressed down. He twisted a little and tried to reach back to push a second one against his back, but as his eyes squeezed shut against the pain, he felt a gentle hand touch his fingers.

"Let me," Sophie said softly.

He let her. Not that he had much choice. His breathing was labored, his fingers slick with his own blood.

"Hardison, we'll need to make a police report. You and Parker, call 9-1-1. Be vague." Nate shifted on the floor, trying to catch Eliot's eye, but Sophie blocked his view.

The van pulled to the side of the road. Hardison booted up the laptop. "We'll need a hospital near a more less desirable neighborhood." His fingers flashed over the keys. "Not too seedy or why would nice folk like us be there?"

"We'll need a cover story." Nate leaned over to reach the storage drawer where Hardison kept fake ID's.

"I don't care." Eliot ground out between clenched teeth.

Parker was on a cell phone. "Hey, send the police. There's been a shooting." She rattled off an address Hardison was pointing out. "Oh no, I'm not giving my name. I don't want to be involved."

Hardison made a similar call, adding that he saw one man being shoved into a black van. He stowed his laptop under the seat and pulled up the hospital on the GPS. "We should be there in about 4 minutes."

Nate tossed a pair of wallets to Parker, then slid one to Sophie. He shoved one into his own pocket then put the last one into Sophie's clutch.

"We were out to a movie. Walking back to the car. Got jumped by muggers. Gun went off. "

Parker was twisted in the seat, looking between the road and Sophie. "How is he?"

Sophie expected the usual complaint from Eliot, but he didn't say anything. "It's bad, but not dreadful. Through and through."

Nate squirmed and pressed down a little harder on his own wound. "Eliot, did that bullet go through you before it hit me?"

Eliot didn't answer.

Sophie looked up from Eliot's closed off expression, first to Parker, who saw the truth, then over to Nate. She nodded. "Looks that way."

Nate closed his eyes, lying back down on the floor. The only sound he could hear was Eliot's forced breathing. He tried not to let himself think about the fact that this was his fault. Eliot was shot. And it was his fault.

Hardison pulled into the emergency area of the hospital, the front wheel up on the curb. "Hey," he yelled into the lobby as the automatic doors opened. "Need some help here! Need a doctor! Need a couple of 'em. Hell, bring all you got." 

He jogged around to the other side. Parker was already there, the doors open, helping Sophie ease Eliot to the edge.

"What do we have?" A slightly bored looking ER doctor came out. He stepped around Sophie, expecting anything. But the sight of blood on Eliot and Sophie got him going. "What happened?"

Eliot didn't say anything, his focus on getting to his feet. He shook off Sophie's helping hand to let the doctor take over. Parker stayed on the other side, and Eliot didn't stop her.

"He was shot." Sophie blurted out. "They were both shot."

The doctor spared a glance for Nate, but seeing that Nate was moving under his own power, albeit slowly, he concentrated on Eliot. Another hospital worker was moving in, getting Nate into a wheel chair.

In the flurry of movement Sophie supplied most of the details, keeping the "facts" about the shooting as sketchy as possible. Last thing they wanted was some innocent arrested for the fake mugging.

Nate was put on one ER gurney, Eliot another. Noises and voices bustled around him. All he wanted was to get Eliot to look at him. One good look, so he could be sure Eliot was going to be okay. But Eliot wouldn't look over. Not that Nate blamed him.

A nurse reached up and drew a curtain between them. "Your brother is in good hands."

Nate swallowed and nodded. She pushed back his hair, looking down on him with a soft smile. "Let's get you well so you can see him." She smiled again when he nodded. She took up a pen and clipboard. "Any allergies to medications?"

"No," he croaked out, but his eyes still lingered on the closed curtain.

Nate woke with a headache and his mouth dry. Someone put a straw to his lips and he sucked gently.

"They say you came through the surgery with flying colors," Sophie said softly.

Parker was in a chair on the other side. "They said it wasn't bad at all. Called it amazing."

Nate blinked, his brain fuzzy. "Eliot?"

Sophie sat back down. "You mean, your brother, Mark?"

Nate cleared his throat. "Right. Mark?"

"He's out of surgery." Hardison said from a small table near the foot of the bed. "But he's still in recovery. They said he'd be in a room in the next couple of hours."

"Any word?"

"Not so much, no. Just that he did okay."

Nate looked around the room. It was a private room, barren, but not the sterile facilities he was used to. "How did you all get in here?"

"Ah. Seems if you aren't in the ICU, they don't much care how many people come and go. No visiting hours either. Family is welcome. Helps your recovery." Sophie filled him in.

"Okay."

A nurse came in, checked his monitors and pushed some buttons. "How are you feeling, Mr. Baker?"

Nate blinked, gave a shuddering breath to cover his panic, and remembering his cover said softly, "Uh, okay. Kinda foggy."

"If you had to rate your pain on a scale of 1 to 10, where would you be?"

He squinted, thinking. "Uh, four? Five maybe?"

"Okay, good. My name is Lisa." She wrote it on a white board on the wall across from the bed. There were other things written there, too. "Do you know where the call button is?"

He nudged it with his hand. 

"Great, call me if you need anything. Okay?"

"Sure, thanks, uh, Lisa." Nate took a deep breath, trying to clear his head.

"You're going to be fine. We'll get you out of here and home in two shakes."

"Sure, right, thanks." He leaned back against the pillows. He was so tired. It didn't take long before he drifted back to sleep.

It was after lunch the next day before he managed to get his feet under him enough to sit in the wheel chair and get wheeled to the room next door to see Eliot, aka Mark.

Eliot was still out cold. The doctors said he hadn't come out of the anesthetic well, thrashing and yelling, so they were keeping him sedated and bringing him up slowly.

There was a dark bruise on the side of Eliot's cheek, showing he'd taken at least one good hit from Jefferson's men. Nate wondered when the police would show. It was only a matter of time. The hospital would report the gunshot wounds. Someone would come to investigate.

Sophie pushed his wheelchair up next to the bed. "I'm going to leave you alone for a few minutes, okay? Get some coffee. Want some?"

"Uh yes, please." He twisted a bit to look up at her, trying to ignore the pain in his side. "Irish would be nice."

She patted his shoulder indulgently. "Fat chance."

She left him alone with Eliot and his thoughts.

Nate watched Eliot sleep. He might have been drugged but it wasn't restful. Eliot's eyes blinked, even when shut, his brow furrowed, his fingers twitched.

"Eliot." Nate whispered softly. "We're here. You aren't alone. We're watching your back." It didn't seem to change anything.

Nate came awake with a start, his heart pounding, not even realizing he'd been asleep. Parker was next to the bed, hovering over Eliot. She reached out a finger and poked Eliot.

"Parker, gently."

She looked over at him then back at Eliot. She touched him again, her fingers resting gently on his arm. "He's so still."

"He's sleeping."

She shook her head. "I've seen Eliot sleep. This isn't sleeping."

"He is drugged, Parker."

He watched her thoughts play across her face. She reached out to touch the IV bag.

"Don't touch it, Parker." She pulled her hand back and gave him a look. He wasn't quite sure how to interrupt it. It was as if she thought he'd drugged Eliot.

"Is he going to be okay?" She used her foot to pull a chair closer to the bed and sat with her hand still resting gently on Eliot's arm.

"Yes," he lied, his mind spinning. No. People don't come out of hospitals. They go in and die.

She tilted her head, watching him. "Really?"

He took a deep breath and tried to put on a good face and wiped his sweaty palms on his hospital gown. "Sure, Parker. You don't think one little bullet is going to stop Eliot, do you?"

"Huh." She looked to be giving the idea some real thought. "For some reason, I never figured he'd get shot at all."

Whatever else she might have to say was interrupted when Hardison came into the room; a laptop under one arm, a plastic bag in his hand. "You all just enjoy those," he was saying over his shoulder. "But remember, they are from me, not Mark, and when he wakes up, you just disregard any charm he tries to use on you and remember it was me!" He was smiling, a bit too broad.

"Less is more, Hardison." Nate said in a low tone as the door shut. "Why are you trying to hustle nurses?"

"I read somewhere if you are nice to the nurses, bring 'em food and stuff, they treat the patient better."

"Huh." Nate and Parker said together.

"How's our boy doing?" Hardison snagged the other chair.

"He seems to be holding his own."

"When is he going to wake up?" Parker tapped Eliot's arm.

When Nate didn't answer, Hardison did. "One of the nurses said he should be waking up sometime tonight. She said when he woke up after the surgery, he was thrashing around and clear out of his head. He clocked an orderly and he didn't even have his eyes open. So they sedated him again. They give him less and less as the day goes on, so he won't hurt anyone or himself."

"It's not right." Parker said bluntly.

"Well, they're doing the best they can." Hardison said with a shrug. "They don't want him pulling out his stitches or nothin'." He flipped open his laptop.

Nate shifted in his wheelchair, his side a dull ache.

"I thought maybe I'd look to see what the papers or the cops had to say about our shooting."

Sophie breezed through the door a moment later, carrying a tray of cups. "I hope you enjoy them." She said back over her shoulder to the nurses' station as she turned to shut the door.

She was met by a mix of amused looks from the team. "What?"

"Nothing." Nate said as he reached for his cup.

She delivered the drinks to each person and stood at the edge of Eliot's bed. "It's just so hard to see him like this."

"That's what I said." Parker chirped, clutching her mocha.

"So what do we do now?"

"Not a lot we can do." Nate shifted and sipped at his espresso. It wasn't Irish, but it would do. "But we should cover what we'll say with when the cops come." 

They didn't get much time to hash out their stories as two harried looking detectives came in the room. "Mark Baker?" the older of the two queried.

"That's Mark, I'm his brother Tom."

"Right. Do you mind if we ask a few questions?" He didn't look like he cared much if they minded or not. They were split up. Nate got wheeled back to his room while Parker and Hardison waited in Eliot's room. Sophie was questioned out in the hall.

They were each questioned for about fifteen minutes. Nate didn't give much of a description. Taller than Mark, shorter than him. Brown hair. White, he thought, but maybe not. Not sure.

Parker had said Mexican. Sophie said she thought black. Hardison had said he'd been getting the car and was too far away to see. So all in all, they gave the cops nothing. Hardison took one of the detective's business cards and with an email address he'd be able to keep track of the case.

Back in his own room, despite the espresso, Nate had to sleep. Sophie, Hardison and Parker took turns in each room, but by dinner time, with both Nate and Eliot sleeping, the decided to head out for food that wasn't prepared in a cafeteria.

Around 7pm the nurse came in to tell him his brother was awake. Nate shuffled next door to the room Eliot was in. He thought maybe they should share a room at some point, but he wasn't sure Eliot would feel the same.

He brought with him a Sudoku puzzle book Hardison had given him and sat in the chair to the left of Eliot's bedside. The room was warm, the lights dim, and he dozed off and on while Eliot drifted in and out of sleep.

Nate looked up when he heard Eliot take a deep breath and saw him push himself up against the pillows. Nate had thought about everything he wanted to say to Eliot. He'd rehearsed it over and over. He had thought of six different ways it could go, depending on what Eliot had to say. "Look." He started slowly then stopped. Eliot was looking at him. Really looking at him, with his head tipped down like he did when he was preparing for a fight. He wanted to squirm. "I, uh," he started again.

"Save your speeches." Eliot talked over him. "I quit."

"What?" This was not one of the ways Nate had prepared for.

"Look, it's time, man. I don't trust you, and you sure as hell don't trust me, so it's time I move on."

Nate sat back, Eliot's words hitting him as hard as the bullet had.

"It's been a good run." Eliot pushed himself further up, shoving at the pillow behind him. He looked away from Nate and peeled back the tape and started to examine the bullet wound in his side. The one in the back, he just ran his fingers over the bandage, pressing down a little where he could feel the stitches.

"Eliot."

Eliot looked up. Nate saw nothing in his eyes; in his face. Eliot looked calm, resigned.

"Eliot, I screwed up."

Eliot shrugged. "Yeah." He swung his feet over the side of the bed, resting for a moment, then standing up. He kept his hand on the bed rail, testing his strength and endurance.

"Eliot, you can't just quit."

Eliot looked up, almost amused. "Yes, I can. I quit this job, when I quit this job. And it's time. Hell, maybe it's past time." He let go of the bed, just standing, making sure he was stable on his feet.

Nate couldn't help but to watch the process. Eliot had had a much more serious wound, but he was already up, trying to walk. Hell, he'd been in a fist fight after he was shot. God, he was a tough SOB.

Nate's fuzzy thoughts just caught up. "What do you mean I don't trust you?"

"You don't." Eliot said it so matter of fact it brought Nate up short. "You haven't trusted me since San Lorenzo."

"I do."

Eliot looked at him, and Nate felt his neck getting hot as he watched Eliot gently ease out the IV.

"You don't. And that's okay. Cuz honestly, I don't trust you either. You've been kinda holier than thou recently, so, really man, it's just time."

Nate found the calm, understanding tone annoying as hell.

Eliot slowly walked to the closet, found his jeans and pulled them on. He had to lean against the wall to do it, but he managed. They'd cut off his shirt so he pulled off the hospital gown and turned it around like a shirt and retied it so it covered his chest.

"Eliot." Nate was getting desperate to get his thoughts in to words and his words into something he could actually use to communicate.

"I told you it was dangerous, man. Did you listen to me? Did you know better than me?"

Nate was shaking his head. He wasn't disagreeing with Eliot, he just wasn't getting to say what he wanted to say.

"No. You thought you were the smartest guy in the room. Well guess what. You nearly got us all killed. You nearly…" Eliot trailed off, pressing his lips together, and closing his eyes. "And since you've decided you don't have to listen to me when I say stuff about our safety, then Parker and Sophie think they don't have to listen either." He shook his head. "I'm done. I can't win with you. Time to move on." He set off for the door, slow but determined.

Nate pushed to his feet as well, wondering how Eliot did it when his own head swam, the edges of his vision dancing with black spots.

Eliot pulled open the door and shuffled to the nurses' station. "Hi," he read her name plate, "Michelle, darlin', can you get me a shirt?"

She blinked up at him. "Are you supposed to be out of bed?"

He smiled down at her, leaning a little heavily on the counter. "Probably not, but I couldn't stay in bed one minute longer when all the beautiful ladies are out here. Come on, some scrubs, something?"

She looked from him to Nate, standing in the door way.

"Come back to bed. You need to rest." He'd almost said Eliot. "Mark, come on."

"Yeah, I will, give me a sec." Eliot never looked at Nate, only at Nurse Michelle. "Shirt? Come on. You're not going to leave me hanging, are you?" He turned on the charm and she shook her head.

"I'll get one for you, but only if you go back to bed."

He didn't say anything, just standing there, while she got up and went to a bank of cupboards and got out a scrub shirt. She handed it across to him and he gave her a smile.

"'K, one more favor."

She titled her head.

"I'll go back to my room, if you'll call my doc, and find out what I need to do to get checked out of here." Before she could do more than gape, he took her hand, brushed a kiss across her knuckles and headed to his room.

Eliot shuffled past Nate, not even looking at him. He dropped the hospital gown and with a grimace that squeezed his eyes shut he pulled the blue scrub shirt over his head. He pushed on to the closet. Bending down to pick up his boots he couldn't hold back a groan. His face was pale and sweaty when he sat in one of the chairs to pull on his socks.

"What's going on? We go out to dinner with every one sleeping and, now I hear one of you is about to go over the wall?" Sophie nudged Nate back into the room, and waved to Parker and Hardison to stay in the hall. "You, sit down before you fall down." She nodded toward the chair and he got the hint. " And you ..."

"And me nothing. I'm out of here."

She reached down and snatched up his boots. "When you can get these away from me, you can have them."

"Sophie," Nate warned at the same moment Eliot surged to his feet and backed her up against the wall.

"Don't ever." Eliot said softly.

She gulped and nodded. "No, of course, you're right. I'm sorry." Her voice was smooth.

Eliot watched her, eyes narrowed. "Are you using your con voice?"

Nate acknowledged that Eliot was right with a quick nod.

"Did it work?" Sophie relaxed a little.

Eliot leaned back. "Yes."

"Okay then. What's going on?"

"Nothing." Eliot reached over to get his boots but she didn't let go. "Give 'em."

"Not yet. Sit please." She gently maneuvered him back toward the bed. He sat, his breathing a little hitched by his exertions. "So, why the sudden urge for a stroll? Our cover is in place. Jefferson and his goons haven't been around. What's up?"

"Just my time with the team."

"Eliot." Nate started when the door pushed open.

"What's this I hear about you not liking our hospitality?" The doctor didn't seem to notice the tension in the room, or if it he did, he ignored it.

"I'm just ready to go."

The doctor stepped up Eliot. "Can you lie down, let me look at how you're doing?"

"I'm fine." Eliot leaned back with a sigh.

The doctor poked and prodded and hmmm'ed to himself. "It looks good. But I really do recommend a few more days here, while we check for complications. Make sure you are well on the mend."

"I'm fine." But Eliot didn't sit back up.

"Well I want to be sure to keep it that way. You gave everybody quite a scare the way you came out of the anesthetic, and I'd like to make sure you get some food down. Did you take out your own IV?" When Eliot didn't look him in the eye, the doctor frowned but kept on talking. "Let's look at everything again in the morning. Okay?"

Eliot didn't comment, Just crossed his arms over his chest and stared out the window. The three of them waited while the doctor made notes on his clipboard, then went to a little computer in the room, and made some notes there. "I'll see you tomorrow, Mark?"

"Yeah, we'll see." Eliot said with a shrug.

It was quiet in the room until the door shut.

"What's going on?" Sophie asked again.

Eliot stared out the window, his poker face firmly in place.

Nate thought, started to speak, thought again, shook himself. "Eliot and I just need to talk for minute. Can you give us that?"

She looked between them. "Okay, I'm trusting you to work this out."

Eliot's jaw shifted, and Nate was convinced he was rolling his eyes.

"We will do our best."

Sophie got the hint and went to the door. Pulling it open she leaned against it for just a moment. "Play nice."

Nate shoo'd her out, but noticed with a smile that she was still clutching Eliot's work boots.

The two of them sat; the silence awkward and stiff.

"Look, I…" Nate stood, one hand pressed against his side, the other he scrubbed at his tired eyes. "Damn, I'd like a drink."

Eliot grunted out his agreement. "Me too."

"Will you give me two minutes?"

"Say what you want. I've said my piece."

Nate sat in the chair beside the bed. He realized he wasn't going to get Eliot to look at him, so he just plowed ahead.

"After the warehouse… when you had to… you changed."

Eliot shook his head. "I didn't change. You did." He rubbed a finger over one eye. " I think you just saw me for what I was. What I always was."

Nate would have liked to pace, but the room he was too tired to get up again. Instead he could only turn to look at the wall, then look back. "Maybe so," he finally conceded.

"And then you stopped trusting me." Eliot shifted on the bed, his lips pressed tight against a twinge of pain.

"It wasn't - I didn't."

"What? You never trusted me?"

"No, that's not what I meant." Nate clenched his hands together. "You know, for a guy that doesn't talk a lot you're sure good at putting words in my mouth."

"Okay, so, it's your turn." Eliot crossed his arms over his chest. And waited.

Nate took a deep breath, his hand involuntarily going to his side, pressing against the bandage. "After." He skipped that part and moved on with an abortive wave. "I've always known what you did, but you know, then I 'knew' what you did. And you did it to save me. It's not that I don't trust you, but dammit Eliot, you scared the living crap out of me."

"And?"

"And, what if," Nate paused, his mouth suddenly dry,"after I saw what you did, what I know you can do. What if I make a plan, a plan where in order to get the bad guy, I use you. As a weapon."

Eliot thought the idea over.

"What if I go off the rails and I use you to get what I want?"

"You won't," Eliot shifted against the pillows, as uncomfortable in the turn of the conversation as he was physically.

"How do you know I won't?" Nate paused. "I don't know that I won't."

Eliot's jaw clenched. "Then we're back to me not trusting you. And that means I should go."

"Does the fact that I trust you, change anything?"

Nate hoped the clench of Eliot's jaw was him wanting to say yes, but he shook his head no. "The only way would be if you were to teach me."

Nate paused, curious. "Teach you?"

"Teach me to do what you do."

"You want to learn what I do?"

"Repeating back the statement as a question is a stall." Eliot smirked. "What better way to keep you on track, if I know what you're thinking?"

Nate pondered that question. "It has merit."

"What, you don't think you, with your big giant brain, can teach dumb ol' me?"

Nate snorted a laugh. "You're not dumb. Don't try to con a conman." Nate rubbed at his bottom lip with his finger. A silence hung between them and they both shifted in their seats. "But mostly, I'm worried you're going to risk your life for me. I don't want you to die for me."

"It's what I do." Eliot said softly, looking at Nate.

"I don't want you to."

"Then I guess you need to get someone else."

"I don't want anyone else."

"Dammit, Nate! What do you want from me?"

"I don't know." He leaned over, putting his elbows on his knees and his head in his hands. "I want."

Eliot waited.

Nate finally had to sit back. The position sitting forward made his side hurt.

"I want to not like you. I don't want to lose someone I care about again. I can't do it again."

Eliot didn't reply right away. He shifted on the bed again and Nate thought about the fact that if his side hurt, Eliot's must hurt a lot more.

"So we have two choices, as I see it. Three choices."

Nate looked over as Eliot counted off the choices.

"One, I leave the team."

Nate shook his head.

"Two, you stop liking me."

Nate shook his head again, a little less vehemently and with a rueful smile.

"Three, you make better plans that don't get us in these messes." He paused then continued. "And when I say a plan is dangerous, or a guy is a nut, you listen to me. That's a deal breaker Nate, you have got to listen to me."

Nate nodded. "So, you'll give me another chance?"

Eliot nodded. "As long as we have an understanding. You keep me in the loop of what's in your head. And security-wise, what I say goes. You gotta quit second guessing me."

Nate rose stiffly and shuffled over to Eliot's bedside, holding out his hand. "Friends?"

"Are we friends, Nate?"

Nate cringed; remembering the words he'd tossed out to hurt Eliot, even trying back then to keep the team at arm's length.

"Friends."

Eliot shook his hand. "You're a jackass, you know that right?"

"I am."

"Okay, just so we're clear."

"We are." Nate headed for the door. "I'm going back to my room. I'm going to sleep, for like a week. And then I'm going to come back tomorrow. And you and I are going to play some chess and maybe I can teach you a few things."

Eliot gave a rueful smile. "Sounds good."

"First off, there were way more than three choices." Nate gloated a little and headed back to his room. "Make a list. We'll discuss it in the morning."

The End

Thanks for reading.

August 2011


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